Poetry by Whitney Wright
Seas of asphalt and gravel devour more
Than they give, and yet she finds
Peace on that cluttered highway.
Small fragments of charred oak burn
Through fading tunnels of light, leaving
Only fog caught up against the glass.
Delicate arias are performed under headlights
By deep bellows of wind, dancing with
Dust, only inches from oblivion.
Winding roads fold into gentle waves,
Casting out the day’s bitter journey
Long enough for her to stumble home.